


Partners in (Con)Crime

by melancholicInspiration



Category: BioShock 2, Bioshock (game), Bioshock (series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-04 00:43:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1760977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melancholicInspiration/pseuds/melancholicInspiration
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after the "death" of Fontaine and the seizure of Fontaine Fisheries and the Plasmid line, Frank Fontaine now wearing the disguise of Atlas comes to Sinclair to make a secret deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

Dark and rainy characterized Rapture as well as any other words could. Granted, a great deal of the water was solidly kept outside but it was definitely not for the hydrophobic of people. It was still utterly amazing how they managed to get decent working electrical all the way down in the middle of the bloody Atlantic Ocean, but the engineers over at Hephaestus managed to make that miracle work. Every habitable place in the city still had an almost unhealthy amount of candles and matchbooks within arms reach, as if the population still feared to live further in the dark than they already were. It was almost enough to make Atlas, formerly the great con and business man Frank Fontaine, laugh at how easily these people were frightened by the uncertainty of living down here. Uncertainty and fear was why Andrew Ryan left to create to this underwater monstrosity and why it continued to be populated by those that more or less shared his worldview. 

Atlas still continued on his way to see one of the more popular businessmen in this watery Hell, one Augustus Sinclair. He briefly stopped in one of the sparsely furnished tunnels to give a once-over on his appearance. Gone was the rough-around-the-edges harshness of Frank Fontaine and was replaced with the what-you-see-is-what-you-get Atlas. The baldness was replaced with a head of thick, beautiful, immaculately-kept blonde hair, his face was rounded out and with a little stubble from losing his razor a day or so ago, and steely grey eyes were covered by handsome blue contact lenses he had managed to smuggle before his business went under. He had to admit that Steinman really did amazing work. The black suspenders over his dirt-stained white shirt felt odd, as he never particularly liked or seen the appeal in such things, but it made him appear as an honest and everyday kind of man. After what had happened previously he had to undergo a complete redo of everything. In his line of work, it was to be expected but it always took some getting used to tot into a different role. 

Sinclair had a beautiful penthouse apartment of his hotel, the Sinclair Deluxe, but that wasn't where he was headed either way. Sinclair wouldn't be there. He was in his CEO office of Sinclair Solutions relatively close to where he used to work on the Plasmid line. There was a beautiful young secretary at the desk in front of the aforementioned office, one who giggled and chattered amorously on the phone to someone, obviously not Sinclair, and waved him over to a chair near the desk. Atlas sat down, before flashing her a rather charming Steinman-brand smile which caught her off-guard for a few seconds before going back to her call and hanging up. 

"May I...um help you, sir?" The girl, Kathy, a smart little British girl god knows how she ended up here, asked him. 

In return he flashed her another daring smirk and replied in his well-practiced Irish accent. "Name's Atlas. Here to see Sinclair." 

The girl nodded dutifully and went to the door behind her, and making a show of it with her dress, to go inform Sinclair of the person here to see him. Atlas admitted to himself that he did think she was plenty attractive, but knew she was not someone to play around with. She would surely rat him out to Ryan. 

It wasn't long after she left when she returned, the same genuine smile on her face, Sinclair leaning against the doorframe with his dark eyes fixed on Atlas. For a moment, he was almost concerned that Sinclair could see through his clever disguise before he waved to him and sauntered back towards the office proper. Atlas followed after a moment, his eyes trained on his old friend, and new business partner. Sinclair wasn't a big man, albeit rather taller than most, but he knew how to make it appear like he owned the place. Almost as if routine, Sinclair sat behind the desk and Atlas on the other side. 

"So this is the infamous Atlas the people been buzzin about." Sinclair offered him a friendly expression, relaxing in his chair. He had only briefly heard about the appearance of this Atlas fellow, mere months after Fontaine had died and presumably lost everything to Ryan. Augustus respected the man but he knew Ryan would come down hard on him. He didn't even pretend to follow Ryan's rules. 

"At your service, Sinclair." Atlas replied, biting back the urge to sarcastically quip in the 'Esquire' bit because that would be a trifle overkill for his purposes. He would have to let down his guard anyways, but it was not that time yet. Still, he had a pistol and a shotgun on hand if things got terribly out of control. 

"Don't recall contacting you for a meeting, Atlas." Sinclair put emphasis on his fake name, which should have been enough of a hint that he caught on but Atlas pretended he didn't catch it. "I have ways of contacting almost everyone in this Fishbowl." 

Atlas was too well aware of how easily Sinclair could get information out of anyone in Rapture, and he was just as good for keeping a secret or two. "Curiosity killed the catfish. Came here to see if you're open to business." 

That was the exact moment that Sinclair straightened up and revealed a pistol that he had stashed in a drawer of his desk and aimed it right at Atlas' chest. The conman tensed, revealing his hidden intentions and anxiety over having lost most of what he had to that freaking Ryan. Even his off again on again fling with Tenenbaum had stopped entirely due to it, and he was definitely hurting there as well. Maybe he could pay a nice girl a hefty sum to keep quiet and have a go with her. Maybe even a nice looking guy. Frank would definitely be lying if he admitted that he hadn't thought about the possibility of Sinclair before. Atlas was so caught up in his thoughts, he barely noticed the gun click and no bullet coming out. 

Sinclair made a show of opening the gun and showing him that it was empty, with a considerable grin, and then he stood up to walk over to the small bar near the window. 

"Care for a drink, Franky?"


	2. A few drinks in (or maybe more)

Both of them had definitely lost track of the time, the only real signal being Sinclair's secretary leaving and neither of them cared to keep track of what time it was exactly when her dress silhouette exited the open door. Atlas remembered Sinclair getting up to go and close it, then stand there for a while as if debating something before sitting down on the floor behind his desk facing the window. Atlas joined him after grabbing another bottle of booze and Christ, did Sinclair have a lot. They sat there together for a while, just staring out at the fish and luminescent fauna and the bizarre neon lights that rippled with the water. 

A funny thing about Rapture was that no matter how many things they could invent that could make it seem so much better down here, or at least more habitable, they couldn't recreate the feeling of sunshine on one's face. Or how little kids, and sometimes grown adults, would go seeking their loved ones due to storm that had scared them - though there was plenty to be scared of in Rapture but Sinclair definitely would take the storms over Rapture. Hardly anyone missed the snow or the ice, nobody talked about it or if they did it was in hushed whispers as if discussing a myth or a juicy piece of gossip. Frank didn't much care for the weather, whether he was Topside or in Rapture, and thought it boring that people would spend time talking about it. 

Raising the bottle had gotten earlier to his lips, broke him out of his near-drunken thoughtless haze, followed by an almost too warm hand around his waist, close enough to the belt loops of his pants for him to give Sinclair a stern look. "Oi, 'clair, watch it with getting all touchy feely." Normally, neither Frank nor Atlas would mind such touches, perhaps even welcome them or reciprocate, but there was too much for him on the line at the moment. 

This was when Sinclair did remove the hand but gave him a daring smirk at him, as if he had managed to get his hand on a Plasmid that allowed him to read others minds. It would definitely be innovative, helpful to some, but they both knew it would be too hard to make and Ryan definitely wouldn't allow such a thing in "his city". They weren't completely the best of friends, Fontaine never quite being the friendly type, but they kept checks running on the other. It had still been a bit of a blow for Sinclair to hear of his death, but it was softened now that he knew it was a lie. What a place Rapture was. 

"Heard the Tenenbaum thing blew up like someone threw a grenade at one of those Big Daddies." Sinclair chuckled softly at the metaphor, figuring his buddy didn't really care for Tenenbaum all that much. But the thing is is that Frank did care for her, a lot even, but he knew that he had to cut it out with her if this Atlas thing was to go anywhere. It would be too suspicious if she was seeing anyone and it would be all over the papers. 

"What're you headin' at, Sinclair?" Frank responded with a stern look and a sigh, no traces of the Irish accent left. He knew it was relatively safe playing an honest hand with Sinclair and if the other turned against him he could always put a few bullets in him, though he would really rather not. Sinclair was one of very few who he rather liked having around and he could see himself fighting with him as they went down against Ryan. He could remember talking him into a little shooting practice down at the Fisheries and how well that went. 

"What say you and me go for a spin?" Sinclair was sitting a bit away from him now, studying his face to look for any sign that he was going to accept the offer. It was a puzzling prospect to say the least, because if either of them hit a rock in the relationship for whatever reason, the secrecy and the business partnership would be at stake. Maybe Sinclair had something in mind and he would clue him in on it after he accepted. 

"Let's do it." Frank offered him a hand, eyes fixed on the other. Sinclair was more willing than he was to play with Ryan's games and pretend to follow him in his delirious stupidity. If Fontaine had followed along, an idea that he thought of many times before and always found the outcome to be a rather boring route and one would he ultimately fail, maybe he would have managed to keep 'alive' a bit longer. He enjoyed the thrill of this new role, of having to learn the ropes of it again because it had been a while since he had gone under as someone else. Plus he had been conning and lying and hiding so much that there was no appeal in trying to live as a 'normal person'. He could still respect Sinclair to being as flexible as he was. 

Sinclair moved in to give him a kiss on the lips and a firm handshake. His eyes trailed down, seeing the faint outline of a shotgun hidden in his clothing. "You brought a gun with you Franky?" 

Frank just shrugged and chuckled, reaching down to take out the gun, honestly he had almost forgotten it was there. "Just in case I got jumped on the way here. Can't be too careful." 

"Hope there's no bullets in that thing. Don't want it accidentally firing and shooting something important." Fontaine seems to genuinely laugh at that and opens it up, sliding a few bullets out and putting them back in his pants, before sliding it along the floor away from them. The pistol was still in his shirt should he need it. The thought kept running through his mind, a thought that made him slightly paranoid and skittish, one of Sinclair ratting him out or shooting him down where he stood.

Almost as if noticing his surreptitiousness, Sinclair chuckled and pressed the open bottle to his lips. "Fontaine ya gotta relax. It's no fun seeing you all worked up and about to jump to your guns, at least not when I'm the only person within shooting distance." 

Fontaine grabbed the bottle held to his lips and took a hearty swig of it, trying to calm himself down. Between Ryan coming down on him hard, the surgery, his fake death, losing his businesses around Rapture and losing Tanenbaum he was wound up pretty tight. But given that he had just taken away his gun and removed the bullets perhaps Sinclair would trust him a bit more not to shoot him right there. 

Maybe he needed a stiffer drink. "Thing's been rough 'clair. You know how it is." 

Sinclair offered him a heavy sigh in response. "Fuck Fontaine I know." Hoping he would be more reciprocative this time, he leaned in and kissed him again after he took another swig of the alcohol. To both of their surprise, Fontaine put down the bottle gingerly and kissed back. The kisses were hesitant and a sloppy, due to both of their inebriation, to start with before growing heated and passionate. 

Fontaine broke the kiss after a few minutes, his arm around Sinclair's shoulders and Sinclair's arms around his chest. "If you tell anyone about this you're dead Augustus." He growled, wanting to establish that before daring to go any further. Even the other mentioned about him being with Atlas that would ruin it; he had carefully construed that he had his 'family' in danger by the Splicers and Ryan or it was in the progress of forming. Though maybe he could use it to his advantage, say something about being so grief-ridden he went to Sinclair for comfort.

"I don't get anything outta ratting you to anyone. I plan on making it out of this watery Hell alive." Sinclair laughed shortly as he looked down at Frank from where he was, barely straddling his hips. It was an odd position to be almost looming over the infamous criminal, one who refused to be on the bottom of any interaction or deal. Yet, here he was completely at Sinclair's mercy, but Frank knew as well as Augustus did that he could easily change that. 

"If you're so dead set on getting out alive you should do it before the shit really hits the fan." Even though he was speaking in his native Bronx accent, Frank still sounded weary of this whole nonsense. This con was a long one indeed and he couldn't remember pulling off on as long or as dangerous as this. "But you want to find what you can make out of here with don't you 'clair?" 

Sinclair takes a long drink and slumps against the drawers of the desk, a wry smirk on his face. "Ah ya got me there Frank. Was thinking of seeing if I can get one of those Metal Hulks up with me somehow." 

Frank who had been one of the main men financing and being a crucial part of the research, started laughing at that. It was absolutely ridiculous. "Sinclair the day someone from Topside wants a Big Daddy is the day I get fucked by Andrew Ryan. Not gonna happen." 

"Franky you may not have had his dick up in you but you did get screwed over by Ryan." 

Frank made a disgusted scowl at that, obviously resenting the recent events and just utterly hating being so low to have to cower and hide in Sinclair's office. He deserved to be on top again. He would kill Ryan and take over Rapture and run everything all over again and have both Sinclair and Tanenbaum at his side as he did it. Frank supposed that he could do it alone, and initially he intended to do it that way, before he met either of them. 

"Believe me Sinclair, Ryan will despair the day he thought of crossing Frank Fontaine. Rapture will be mine."


	3. The Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank finally tells Sinclair what he needs from him. Sinclair is not terribly happy about what he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea of Sinclair taking care of Jack is hilarious to me. And adorable. Sinclair would probably still be a better dad than Fontaine. Probably. Happy Halloween!

Hours passed by, the time seeming to not matter at all, as Sinclair and Fontaine drank and smoked and occassionally made out. A silence fell between them, one that was heavy and knowing that something would happen that would change both of them live, for better or for worse. Fontaine had the plan going already, and he was fully prepared to deal with any outcome that happened due to it actually panned out. Sinclair, having now moved to turn on a light to further illuminate the shadows of his office, had been through some tough times indeed and felt himself prepared to at least hear what Fontaine had to say.

"Now Frank, do inform me of why you decide to drop in on me like this. You were never the type to just visit for visiting's sake, and I'm not dumb enough to believe that you are." Sinclair replied, all enigmatic and business-like again, his eyes fixed on Fontaine looking for any sign that he was actually going to include him on his plans or surprise him with it.

Came to make a deal with ya slick." Fontaine replied as he lit himself a cigarette and stood up. "But first, I need to get to Fontaine Futuristics. You still own that place next to it right?".

At the mention of Persephone, Sinclair tensed and his gaze grew wary. It was meant to be a secret, only known to him and select few others. No doubt Fontaine had managed to weasel the information out of someone else, since Sinclair was careful about keeping that information secret. It was the only establishment he owned that he didn't care for people knowing. "No doubt you squeezed that information out of some poor soul." Sinclair mentioned off hand, watching as Frank ashed his cigarette in an ashtray on the desk as he stood up.

Frank just gave a leer and an unsettling grin before waving the comment off as if it was a usual thing for him to do. In this case, torturing and killing people to either keep their mouth shut or give him the information he wanted, it was. He also, evidently didn't seem to care whether Sinclair was at all comfortable with that part of the plan. "It didn't take long to get it out of them." Fontaine drawled, taking another languid drag off the cigarette. "Just keep an eye out, wouldn't want any of those prisoners escaping on you."

That remark was met with a hearty scoff from Sinclair. The people he had locked up there, although there weren't many, were there solely because they did something to wrong Ryan. It was easier than killing them outright, as Ryan wasn't the type of man to get his hands dirty, and it was easier to keep an eye on them an ensure that no breakouts were happening. And since the only people, aside from prisoners, that had access to Persephone were Sinclair and the guards he hired to guard the place there was no risk of mutiny from them.

Sinclair would probably chuck them out of an airlock if they defied him like that, and they knew that full well so it helped ensure that they wouldn't be foolish enough to try.

"I don't need any batshit psychologists getting in my way." Frank continued, giving him a glance that showed that they both knew who he was talking about. It was in the Tribune for weeks, and hardly anyone alive hadn't heard about it. "And if I gave her to Suchong to play around with, Ryan would catch wind."

"So what you're asking for is me to keep an eye on Lamb." Sinclair responded almost incredulously. That was too simple, far too simple for Fontaine. Besides he was already doing that more or less, and nothing had happened so far.

"No that's not what I need from ya. Already doin' that." Fontaine blew out a string of smoke and walked a bit closer to Sinclair. "Ryan's planning to round up all my followers an' me and chuck us in the Department Store and sink the bloody thing. Kinda like your little Persephone." Sinclair had no idea how Frank got that information but the thought of Ryan making another prison, a prison solely for Atlas and all the people that agreed with him, made his blood run cold.

"You're really gonna let him win?" At that, he scowled and the scowl made him look even more terrifying. Sinclair hadn't realized most of the physical changes but he was more handsome, if there was even a word for how attractive and terrifying he looked Sinclair didn't know it. It wasn't like Frank to just let someone else have the upper hand, he hadn't even heard of a time when Frank even so much as faked letting someone get that far ahead.

"Hardly. I'm gonna make him believe he won and go in for the gold."

"So while you're down trying to not die down there, what exactly do you plan to have me do? Run Fontaine Futuristics in secret?" Sinclair didn't ouright laugh in his face, because god knows what happened to people who laughed in Fontaine's face, but he couldn't help but chuckle at the very idea. Him running Fontaine Futuristics? Although Sinclair Solutions never directly rivalled Fontaine Futuristics, the very idea was laughable. Fontaine had to be pulling his leg.

Fontaine waved his hand nonchalantly at the idea, ignoring that Sinclair thought he was kidding around. There was nothing more serious to him than this. "Nothing that grandiose. I got a li'l pet project of mine. And since Suchong will most likely be holed up in there with me, I'd like you to keep an eye on it." His trust in Tenenbaum didn't go that far, it never did truly, and without way to give her any orders on what to do or not, he needed someone else. He _needed_ Sinclair.

"I ain't gonna do less you tell me what the bloody thing is. I know enough about your experiments to know it's nothing normal." Sinclair replied, evidently trying to see or find out what the he was planning. Sinclair did have his part to play in the development of the Big Daddies, though he  tried to stay out of the Little Sisters part as much as humanly possible. Still, seeing those gave him the frights. Those were not things a sane person would pick a fight with.

"Ah ya got me there. See, " He moved over to Sinclair and threw an arm about his shoulders, a mockery of what would be considered a friendly action, and his smirk grew. "See I got this kid. But it's secret so shut your damn trap about it."

Sinclair almost burst out laughing, before he caught the slight threat unspoken from the other. "Didn't know you had a kid Franky. Who's the lucky gal?" Frank rolled his eyes at that.

"Not my kid."

"Frank did you steal a _child_?"

Frank laughed outright at that, unable to conceal his pride about the way that Sinclair voiced that objection. "Calm down, Gus. Boy's parents didn't even know he was alive. And it's not _necessarily stealing_. Bought and paid for."

Now it was time for Sinclair to roll his eyes. "What a wonderful father you are Frank."

Frank just shrugged his shoulders, as if the idea of being a father never occurred to him and didn't even seem to bother him in the slightest. He blatantly refused to have anything to do with the idea of being a parent, and it was better off that way. For him. And since Tenenbaum, at least when they used to have sex, never wanted children either, it worked out well for them. Of course, they never really had that conversation to begin with. 

"So what's the kid's name?" Sinclair prompted, not fully going to say yes or no to this until he had all the details.

Another dastardly evil smirk appeared on Frank's face as he looked up at Sinclair. "Jack. Jack Ryan."

Sinclair could have hit him. He should have hit him. What kind of a person is so unapologetically proud of stealing another man's child? "Jesus fuckin' Christ, Frank. You stole Andy's _kid_?"

Sinclair brought a hand to his face, completely appalled. "Well the kid does need someone capable of being a somewhat good influence. Better than you anyways."

Frank smiled darkly. "So we're agreed?"


	4. A Celebration and a first meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's celebration Fontaine's 'death' and these celebrations get a bit out of hand with a certain Sander Cohen. Also Sinclair ends up meeting dear Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two part chapter of this fic. Figure that I'd throw some Sander/Andrew in, because I honestly can't see Cohen being so in love with Ryan with no chemistry at all between the two.
> 
> I don't own the idea of the Nacrosis Club, that is from a wonderful fanfic written by Wallmaker. It is a wonderful piece I reccomend reading. 
> 
> Also Papa Fontaine is the funniest thing in the world and I imagine either baby Jack or some of the Little Sisters calling him that and him being utterly disgusting.   
> Apologies for the slight out of character bits.

It had barely been a month since the news of Fontaine's death, and since then Ryan had been riding the high of having no more competition, as well as not having to deal with a smuggling criminal like _Frank Fontaine_ ever again. There was another party going on right now, and at Fort Frolic no less, and Ryan was for once enjoying the party. He had a scotch in hand, eyes moving about the commotion around. Most everyone in Rapture was here, Sinclair and Tenenbaum weren't around but he didn't need everyone to have a party, and he was proud of the city he had created.

Not even Sander Cohen, who was now approaching him wearing that ridiculous rabbit mask, could dull his mood right now. Ryan had known full well of the admiration, or perhaps it was something stronger than that, that Sander felt for him. Usually it made him shudder at the idea, at the idea of committing to a person, but he knew Sander Cohen wasn't easily shaken. "Dear Ryan~~ Come and join the party~ You look so glum standing here by yourself." Cohen trilled, in his lilting musical speech.

Andrew chuckled softly at that, Cohen's way of talking was always quite endearing he found, but he would of course never admit to such things. "Sander, I'm fine." He gestured at the drink he was holding and took a sip, barely noticing the friendly way that Cohen was touching his arm. Perhaps a bit _too_ friendly for his liking.

"Of course you are Andrew~" Was the lilting response, a taunting note when Sander said his name. Ryan gave him a stern look, or what he hoped was a stern look, and he just smiled back at him. "With that Fontaine gone, you can run Rapture however you like now.~ Who wouldn't be happy about that?" Ryan was never the type of man to smile, he just didn't like the look of it, but he felt the mixture of alcohol and Sander Cohen getting to his head. It would have to take a bit more of the former to get him to do anything resembling a friendly smile, Ryan had always felt that being successful and respected was more important than being friendly.

"Yes, Sander, Rapture can finally get back to how it's supposed to be." Ryan replied finishing his drink and gave it to one of the servers passing around throughout the fort, and like most people who came here often, they were wearing the usual rabbit masks and a nice three-piece suit. Another one came by with assorted drinks, Sander and Ryan each took one.

"So Ryan~, how about we have a celebration of our own?" Sander prompted him, going back to touching his arm in that perturbingly sensual fashion that makes goosebumps appear on Ryan's skin even under his suit. He took a sip of the drink and thought about the interesting taste of it, trying to avoid the very obvious fact that Sander was coming onto him. Sander Cohen was never one for beating around the bush, he always made it clearly obvious when he wanted something out of someone, or when he wanted someone. For any normal person, or even a person who wasn't skilled at reading people, it might have been flattering or endearing; but Ryan felt it rather flustering to be around.

"Shall we go to Hephaestus then?" Ryan responded with a question of his own, his own peculiar way of accepting Sander's invitation. Sander's eyes lit up and he grinned deviously, kissing Ryan on the cheek. Ryan was surprised at the gesture, a blush appearing just faintly on his cheeks, but he chose to believe that the heat in his face was due to steadily drinking for the past couple hours instead of any embarrassment due to Cohen's actions.

"As beautiful as that suggestion is, I have a better place in mind~~. Have you heard of the Nacrosis Club?" Sander queried, and gave almost what could be called a _concerned_ expression at Ryan's deep-rooted frown. Of course Ryan had heard of the Nacrosis, but oddly enough not many words about the owner of that place, and he had been there a fair few times. It was a filthy place, full of sexual atrocities and enough things to make your blood run south and boil at the same time. It was not for the faint of heart or for people who had a reputation to consider. Yet no one knew who exactly came and went, spare for the owner and a few clientele who frequented the place more than a few times a week, so maybe _he_ would be hidden for a time if he went there with Sander.

"I'm into sleeping with _you_ , Sander, not half of Rapture." That admission enough was enough for a man like Ryan to die out of pure embarrassment, and it made Cohen make a soft 'ooh'ing sound of content. It hardly did anything to deter the other from the idea now that Ryan had also admit to knowing about the place, perhaps he even went to the Nacrosis once or twice. That idea was one of the more amusing things that Sander had stumbled upon.

"I believe the dear owner has a private room or two where we can have our fun Ryan dear~" Andrew definitely didn't like the idea that Cohen had any kind of in with the owner of the place, that Cohen knew him personally and could ask him for that. But it was easier to stomach than the idea of having sex with more people than he agreed to. Fontaine had died, but there was no reason to act like him.

"Lead the way, Sander." Ryan mumbled half-hearted as Sander started leading him to the closest bathysphere so they could go to the hell that was the Nacrosis Club, and Ryan grabbed and drank yet another drink before they managed to even exit the Fort. Sander just giggled in his bemused way and lit a cigarette, seeming happy enough that Ryan consented, and he did he was thinking about it all night even, a little bit of a bounce in his step as they walked. Ryan was always more of a social drinker, drinking to break the ice at meetings or at parties, so evidently there was something eating at him. 

By the time they entered into the bathysphere and were on their way to the club, in Dionysus Park no less and even more reason why it was so shameful for Ryan to go there, that Ryan found himself getting a bit more relaxed. It didn't help soothe his shock when Sander leaned over and actually kissed him, and he was caught at whether the right thing to do would to be to kiss him back or just not respond at all. He did return the kiss after a few moments, and the realization that this was legitimately happening hit him, to which Sander responded by moving closer and forcefully taking hold of his shoulders.

It was as forceful as Ryan had come to expect from Cohen, but he found it growing on him and almost enjoying it. The kissing was rough and forceful on Cohen's part, contrasting with the shyness and hesitating responses from Ryan.

By the time they arrived at Dionysus Park, Ryan's tie had been torn off sloppily and his pants were almost undone, Cohen's mask was thrown to the opposite end of the bathysphere and his suit blazer was falling off his shoulders. Both of them were flushed and hardly noticed the slight jolt of the bathysphere docking, too busy trying to get out of respective clothes.

"Sander....Sander." Ryan tried to say, his voice wavering but still managing to be stern. It didn't stop Cohen from kissing him, as much as he tried to. "Not in the bathysphere, Christ."

"Oh~ Just a little fun Ryaan~" Cohen got down in a kneeling position infront of Ryan, one hand moving over his sporting erection showing through his undone pants. His hands were gentle enough, oddly gentle given how forceful and heavyhanded Ryan expected from the artist. Ryan felt himself slide down a bit of the wall of the bathysphere, biting his lip hesitantly  as Cohen continued touching him like that.

He nodded shallowly, and Cohen continued but moved so he could tug at Ryan's pants, and Ryan attempted to move so he could move his pants down to his knees. Cohen then moved his boxers down further, pushing his pants down to his ankles and went back to moving his hand over the erect penis. Ryan thought he was fairly good at keeping self-composed, even in sexual circumstances, but he felt a small gasp escape his throat as Cohen started to suck him off.

\-------------------------------

 

Sinclair was still annoyed at Frank for stealing Ryan's bloody kid, and just disappearing off like that, and getting him to look after the kid. The kid, Christ he didn't know anything about the bloody kid. It was Ryan's kid, so probably a snob of a kid who expected everything to be given to him. At least Frank seemed to be trying to care for the kid, so when Jack wasn't around with Suchong and Tenenbaum, he was staying at Fontaine's place. That seemed nice enough.

What he didn't expect was to get there and to see a kid, a ten year old kid, playing the god damn piano. The fright from seeing the giant-ass bear in the lobby of Fontaine's place was considerably less shocking. "Jack?" He called, trying to sound less annoyed than he felt. And how nervous he actually was. The kid was tall for what he expected. And definitely older than the just barely months old that Frank told him he was.

"Hi. Are you the guy that Papa Fontaine said would come?" The boy asked and it took him a while to register what the bloody fuck was going on. This kid looked ten, and moved like a ten year old, but he definitely was not ten years old. What the hell did Frank do to this kid.

"Ah, I see Frank told you I'd be coming. Name's Augustus Sinclair, Esquire." Sinclair replied, holding out a hand to the boy, who shook it but was somewhat surprised at the kindness. There was definitely something up with this kid. But he seemed friendly enough. Hopefully he was nothing like Frank, and he didn't seemed anything like Ryan. The idea of Ryan as a kid, as a friendly kid no less, was something he didn't want to picture.

Sinclair moved over to a nearby couch. A really nice leather couch near one of the windows. The boy followed and sat next to him, staring at him like he was an interesting fish or something. "So, tell me kid, what kinda things does Frank do with you?" That had the possibility of being one of the worst questions to ask but he had to start somewhere.

Jack looked puzzled and quite frankly it was adorable. Jack had to be one of the cutest kids Sinclair had ever seen. Unfortunately the kid was Frank's. Technically Ryan's. Jesus he was in a rough place with this kid, but maybe he could teach the kid something. How to handle money or something about law. Make the kid respectable. Unlike his ass of a father. Who he was admittedly having sex with. Sinclair needed to stop thinking about Frank.

"Teaches me how to fight." Again, what the fuck Frank. Sinclair was even more appalled at that.

"He hurt you?" There was a lot of things that Sinclair was more or less okay with, but a grown man of Frank's size and experience should not be doing things like that with a child, but it didn't look like Jack was hurt or not.

"No, Papa Fontaine hasn't hurt me at all. He's just shown me some things." Jack responded happily, swinging his leg and completely oblivious to how that might seem odd in some way to a different person. "He taught me to play the piano." Well at least that part was normal, but Sinclair found the need to have a cigarette creeping up on him fast. 

"What do you do for fun kid?" Sinclair asked for any hope that this kid was in any way normal. But living under the sea with both _Ryan_ and _Fontaine_ as more or less parents, there was no hope that this kid was normal. He almost felt sorry for the kid. He didn't ask for this.

"Reading I guess. Fontaine got lots of books." And almost none of them were appropriate for a child. Rapture didn't even have children's books. Or there was a great children's department in the Department Store but since Fontaine told him about the imminent sinking of that place, Sinclair had given the place a pretty wide berth. The man didn't even give him a date, it could be tomorrow, it could be next week, it could be right now. But given that Sinclair didn't feel any quakes or see an explosions he was confident that it hadn't gone down yet.

"Do you like card games kid?" Sinclair was practically grasping at straws trying to find some way to entertain the boy. Jack just shrugged his shoulders and went back to swinging his legs and staring up at the windows, quietly amused by the water and the fish swimming around.

"I'll teach you some card games, it'll be fun kid." Jack nodded but he didn't seem to be paying attention.

 

 


End file.
